


Ordinary Day

by Osidiano



Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: AU - No Digimon, Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friendship, Gen, POV First Person, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osidiano/pseuds/Osidiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic to Vanessa Carlton's 'Ordinary Day,' sans full lyrics.</p><p>AU in which Ken is a tired grown-up who stumbles across noodle cart owner Daisuke and learns some things about the necessity of optimism and childish wonder. He does this through the power of bubbles and motivational speaking. Because Daisuke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordinary Day

**Author's Note:**

> The 'noodle cart' that I envisioned here is more like a food truck or trailer than a pull along cart. Also, please keep in mind that this is really old, and I didn't rewrite or edit it before putting it up here. You get it in all its 'teenage!Sid’ glory. You're welcome.

I sat down on the park bench with an exasperated sigh, casting my eyes to the dirty pavement. Me meeting here in Odaiba was over, and I did not want to go back home to Tamachi. In an hour and a half, if I got on the bus that had just pulled up to the curb across the street, I might as well be in hell. Then again, all of Tokyo was like that. And, when I was in a particularly foul mood, it seems like all of Japan is like that. Reaching up with one pale hand, I brushed back my blue-black hair and tucked it behind my ear. Something wet popped against my bared cheek, and I automatically touched my fingertips to the moist spot that it had left. I raised my gaze and looked over my shoulder to where it must have come from. Standing there with probably the largest grin I had ever seen, was a man my age with spike mud-red hair and messy bangs that were propped up by a pair of plastic goggles. He was blowing bubbles, face uplifted to the dark grey sky. I know I must have been staring, but it seemed so strange to me. We both watched as his bright flood of tiny bubbles floated up as the rain started to fall. He put away his bubble wand and the bottle that it went in, and, with his eyes still locked on those prism-colored spheres that rose yet higher, he started to walk away. I'm not sure why I stood up or why I called after him, but he stopped and turned towards me. And he smiled when he said 'hello.'

_(Just a day, just an ordinary day_  
_just tryin' to get by)_  


I asked him what he was doing, and he said, "Blowing bubbles in the rain." Then I asked why, because it didn't make sense to me. His answer was simple: he wanted to see how many could make it to heaven.

"Bubbles can't go to heaven," was my immediate reply.

"How do you know?" he asked, but I had no response for that, as I had spoken without thought. He saw me try to come up with some kind of answer, and laughed. "I'm gonna get out of the rain, you wanna come?" He offered me his hand. I just looked at it for a moment, then to his face. I wondered if he wanted something from me, or if maybe he knew who I was. But he looked too childish and innocent standing there with both his long-sleeved white shirt and his blue vest steadily soaking from the falling rain for me to think that he had some kind of ulterior motive. That didn't mean I trusted him just yet, of course, nor did it mean that I would take his hand.

_(I started to realize that every day he finds just what he's lookin' for  
and like a shooting star he shines, and he said) _

__

"My name's Daisuke." I blinked, watching him drop his hand back to his side. We stood for awhile as he let it sink in. He wanted to know my name. I stammered it out along with a more formal introduction. Daisuke shrugged, and we started to walk towards wherever he was leading me. "Do you like bubbles?"

"I guess so. . ."

_(Take my hand, live while you can  
don't you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand)_

"I bet you didn't know that you can tell what kind of person someone is by the bubbles that they blow. It's real easy, to. I can give you an example if you want." I nodded and let him continue. "Okay, lemme see. . . alright, I got it. I blow little bubbles, lots of them. And they go right up o the sky. Some of them pop on the way up, but a lot of them make it. Now, you gotta remember, bubbles, like, they represent yourself and your dreams. And so this tells you that I'm an impatient person and I have a lot of dreams. Nothing weighs down my bubbles, because I don't that they can make it. Sometimes a dream doesn't come true, but it doesn't stop any of the others. And once they're up in the sky, away from the buildings and stuff, they can all become one big bubble. Y'know, combine into a bigger dream."

_(for I felt what I had not felt before_  
_and you'd swear that those words could heal and)_

I just looked at him in amazement for the simplicity of his thoughts. We stopped walking, and he smiled at me again. "What kind of bubbles do you make?"

"Big ones," I answered. "And they don't make it to the sky. They're heavy, and they fall off the balcony to the ground below."

"You don't have a lot of faith in yourself, do you?"

"I have plenty of faith." Daisuke shook his head, and I noticed then just how bright his eyes were, even though they were the same ruddy color as his hair.

"You don't like yourself much, then."

"You're right," I told him. "I don't."

_(And I know he's no stranger  
for I feel I've held him for all of time, and he said)_

__

"I live right over there in that noodle cart. You wanna come in? I'll make some tea, unless you want something stronger."

"Tea would be fine, thank you." I don't know why I continued following him, or why I let him help me up into the cart. It was nice in there, if somewhat cramped and smelling like soy sauce. The lights were on, and I sat down on what was either a bed or a low table with cushions on it. Daisuke filled the kettle with water to boil, digging through shallow cabinets along one wall for the tea.

"I got some green tea, you want that?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." We lapsed into silence for some time. I wasn't sure how long. After a while, he asked me a question that I wasn't prepared for:

"You're not a happy person, are you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"I can just tell that sorta thing," he replied. I hummed noncommittally. "Y'know, there was this real smart guy who said that people were about as happy as they made up their minds to be."

"Yes, I am aware. His name was Abraham Lincoln, and that quote is on the wall of just about every psychologist in the world."

"You know that for a fact, or is this a guess, like the ability of bubbles?"

 _(Please come with me, see what I see_  
touch the stars for time will not flee)

It was strange for me, sitting in a stranger's home and talking like old friends. But then again, he wasn't really a stranger anymore, was he? No, he was Daisuke. We sat in his noodle cart, me on his bed and him cross-legged on the strip of floor in front of me, talking about dreams. Well, he did most of the talking; I simply listened and sipped my tea. I never really had any dreams. Daisuke talked about how he would one day get on the national football team, and how he had even gone to try out once. I chose not to respond to that, because just then I felt a huge wave of guilt pass over me. They had asked me to join once, a few years ago while I was still in university. He said his biggest dream was to win the World Cup for Japan. I laughed as I listened to him go on and on about how he had waited over fifty for us to win again. That was impossible, of course, because he wasn't nearly old enough to have been waiting for anything for that long.

I don't know when his words started to slur together in my mind, one conversation seeping out into another incoherently, before I began to fall asleep.

_(Just a dream, just an, ordinary dream_  
as I wake in bed  
_and that boy, that ordinary boy_  
_was it all in my head?)_

I didn't open my eyes at first, instead keeping them shut. I had forgotten where I was. As realization dawned on me, I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I looked around. There was fresh tea on the counter in the cup I had been drinking from the night before, but Daisuke was not there. I stood then, picking up the small cup and drinking its contents as I wondered where he might have gone. I had the urge to rummage through the folders on the other side of the table-bed, but managed to restrain myself. It would have been rude, especially considering all the hospitality he had shown me. The door in the back opened then and Daisuke poked his head in, grining when he saw that I was finally awake.

_(I saw that boy standing there with a deal, and he said)_

"Hey, Ken! Glad to see that you're awake. So, you want noodles for breakfast or should we bop on down to the store and get donuts or something?" I almost laughed at him then, but just settled on smiling.

"Donuts aren't healthy, Daisuke." He gave me what was probably the most childish and comical glare that I had ever seen, and scoffed.

"It's breakfast. Who would want to eat healthy at breakfast?"

"I would, and noodles would be fine, thank you." We ate, I in silence as he rambled on about something or other. I don't think that he knew I wasn't listening, just nodding along at what I hoped were appropriate junctures.

(Take my hand, live while you can,  
don't you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand)

Daisuke walked me to my bus stop when we finished. As I was about to get on, he grabbed my wrist and stopped me. I looked to him, confused. "Daisuke?"

"Give me your number, Ken. I wanna call you and talk sometime." I said nothing for a moment, too shocked to respond. He couldn't have possibly enjoyed my company that much. . . could he? His eyes were pleading, and I put a hand in my jacket pocket for paper only to find that there was none.

"I don't have anything to write on —" but just as I said the words, Daisuke handed me a pen and rolled up his sleeve.

"Just write it on my arm. Can't lose it that way." I shook my head slightly at his joke, steading his arm with one hand as I scribbled my number down.

"I'll see you later, Daisuke. And. . . thank you. Again. For everything."

_(Just a day, just an ordinary day_  
_just tryin' to get by_  
_Just a boy, just an ordinary boy, but_  
_he was looking to the sky)_

A week later found me sitting down on that same park bench, my eyes sweeping through the crowds of people. I didn't see his spiky hair at first, or hear his overly exuberant voice. What caught my attention was a tiny swarm of bright bubbles, all floating up to the sky. Turning, I spotted him standing there in faded jean shorts and a short-sleeved blue shirt. He was smiling with the bubble wand just far enough away from his lips so as not to touch, face uplifted as he watched his dreams take flight. I was always glad to see him, and every time I felt. . . I'm not sure, but it was different, like light and warmth and energy all throughout me. He saw me and came over, not willing to sit as he said hello. I wanted to ask him what it was that I kept feeling when I saw him, so I did. His answer sounded beautiful to me:

"Happy."


End file.
